


5 Times Harry Tried to Propose (and The Time They Get it Right)

by alienlover13



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 5 Times, 5+1 Things, Anxiety, Bisexual Harry, Domestic Fluff, Falling In Love, Getting Together, HP: EWE, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Post-Hogwarts, Post-War, Romance, Slow Burn, Switching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-05
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2018-10-19 18:10:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10645266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alienlover13/pseuds/alienlover13
Summary: Remix of5 Times Harry Tried to Propose (and The Time He Gets it Right)by carpemermaid.5+1 marriage proposals Harry makes to Draco, from Draco's POV. Relationships have ups and downs, and, in this case, six proposals. One has to stick eventually.





	5 Times Harry Tried to Propose (and The Time They Get it Right)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [5 Times Harry Tried to Propose (and The Time He Gets it Right)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6596197) by [carpemermaid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/carpemermaid/pseuds/carpemermaid). 



> **Disclaimer:** All Harry Potter characters used here are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended. This story is a re-visioning of 5 Times Harry Tried to Propose (and The Time He Gets it Right) originally by carpemermaid.
> 
>  **Author's Notes** : Dear carpemermaid, I really hope you like this retelling! I wanted to look at the story from Draco's POV and explore his inner thoughts and feelings about Harry's many failed proposals. Many thanks to my beta K for all the great suggestions. Enjoy!

It took them a long time to get together, but Draco didn’t regret any of the moments leading up to their relationship, even the unhappy ones. He spent half his life waiting for Potter, it seemed; what was a few more years, give or take? He’d never expected Potter to actually give him his wand back, or to offer his hand in an act of compassion that drew Draco right back to when Potter denied him at eleven years old.  But fresh starts didn’t happen often, and Draco needed to take advantage of it.

He decided to return to Hogwarts over the summer and help Potter rebuild. It would have looked desperate to come all by himself, so Draco dragged Pansy and Blake with him. Potter had a right to be pissed off by Pansy’s presence at Hogwarts—she had tried to hand him over to the Dark Lord, after all—but instead of getting caught up in the small details, Potter did his best to put the past behind him. He would come sit with Draco out on the Hogwarts grounds, sharing whatever random story came to mind, be it about the Giant Squid, Quidditch, or even Draco himself. For his part, Draco started to loosen up a little after the first few times they met outside. Eventually, he felt comfortable enough around Potter to treat him to some of his most biting witticisms. Luckily, Potter seemed to enjoy his snarkiness, laugh lines deepening as he grinned at Draco with appreciation. 

When their tasks were done and they left Hogwarts later that summer, they parted as friends. It was so much less than Draco wanted, but so much more than he ever thought he’d have. Potter was his friend now, and Draco kept that knowledge close to his heart. He could die happy knowing that Harry Potter no longer hated him.

Somehow, even though Draco hated pubs, Pansy and Blaise managed to drag him out on Friday nights to sate their need for spirits, greasy food, and dirty dancing. The only reason he allowed them to manhandle him into going was because the first-year Auror recruits had _their_ weekly pub night then and it was a low-stakes chance for Draco to see Potter. He grew more and more comfortable around the Saviour, which became especially clear when he started ragging on Potter himself. Draco could have gotten drunk of of Potter’s influence alone, but he still drank up when Potter brought him cup after cup of shitty ale. At least that way, when they stumbled down the street, latched together in an effort not to end up on the dirty ground, Draco could blame it on being thoroughly intoxicated. He used the same excuse to allow himself to get slightly more handsy with Potter; and sometimes, it seemed like Potter did too. To Draco’s eternal disappointment, nothing ever came from these encounters.

Potter’s revelation that he was bisexual caused the small tendril of hope that had long survived in Draco’s stomach to blossom into a full-out monster. Now, the possibility of Potter wanting him back was _real_. This feeling quickly died when Potter started dating every blonde-haired baboon in sight. They all resembled Draco in some way, which only hurt more when he realized that Potter wanted someone who looked like him, yet still _wasn’t_ him.

Michael Baddock. Even the very name of Potter’s latest fling made Draco want to put his fist through a window, and that was saying something because he greatly disliked pain of any kind. If it was anyone else, he’d have thought they were flaunting their arm candy to make Draco jealous, but he honestly thought Potter was too dimwitted to realize that Draco had a major thing for him. Still, though, Potter expected everything to be like normal, even with fuck-boy Baddock there, and Draco was unwilling to accommodate him. No, Potter, you’re not going to fuck me with your eyes and then go home and _actually_ fuck Baddock. Draco had to stop himself from hexing the idiot after Potter decided to tongue his boyfriend when sitting right next to Draco, contenting himself with shoving Blaise into his chair where _he_ could be the one to hear the awful slobbery noises that their tongues made.

So apparently Baddock was jealous of him. Asshole deserved every last bit of insecurity he was riddled with, because if he was threatened by a former Death Eater and Potter’s greatest rival, save for Voldemort, then Baddock would never be able to command Potter’s attention properly. Draco was happy when Baddock realized this a short number of months later, but he was less thrilled when Potter took that as an excuse to bitch and moan about having been dumped. Potter was single again—it would have been easy to seduce him and draw him into another relationship, but Draco was no-one’s rebound, least of all the man he’d been in love with since he was eleven years old. 

For that reason, Draco took Potter to the club so he could pull strangers. He watched Potter salivate over the other patrons, driven mad with lust, and sighed. There was no way he was going to let any of these flea-bitten mangy dogs fuck him and take his virginity, but Potter didn’t need to know that. Draco approached one of the cleaner-looking dark-haired wizards and tried to throw off “fuck me” vibes as successfully as he could. Unfortunately, it worked, so Draco was forced to endure ten minutes of being groped on the dance floor before he dragged the man off into the back hallway. One quick Obliviate later, the man thought Draco was a sex god, and he was free to go home to his flat. Before he left, Draco took another look out on the dance floor. Potter had commanded the attention of a blonde wizard and was attempting to fuck him _on_ the dance floor. He sighed again before leaving for home, immersing himself in romantic erotica for the rest of the night to dull the hollow feeling inside his chest.

***

Christmas came closer and closer, and Draco agonized about his gift for Harry. In the end, he need not have worried—Potter loved the soft green sweater he’d received and pulled it on immediately, treating Draco to a rare sight of his well-developed abs. Potter’s present to him, however, a first-edition book of magical theory by non other than his idol, Judith Eagleton, left Draco breathless. He had no idea that Potter actually knew him so well; he’d always gotten the slightest impression that Potter only heard him talk but never listened. This was one occasion Draco was more than happy to be proven wrong.

Their get-togethers started to increase far beyond the usual pub night, much to Draco’s elation and dismay. They’d either find themselves at his flat or at Potter’s, some kind of unhealthy takeout in hand. Potter would fall asleep over his Auror paperwork (Draco took a small amount of satisfaction in chastising Potter over his handwriting and then watching as he tried to make his chicken-scratch more legible) and Draco would cover him where he lay, shaking from the amount of effort it took to restrain himself from snuggling up in Potter’s arms.

They also had a morning routine of drinking coffee and splitting the newspaper. Draco would always keep the gossip section for himself, stealthily hidden behind the finance pages, and leave the Quidditch section out for Potter. Sometimes, when Potter would wake up and come to the kitchen smiling (no matter whether it was his or Draco’s, he always looked the same way), meeting Draco’s eyes with what he could only _dare_ to describe as some kind of loving affection.

He’d set Potter up with a cup of hazelnut Tibetan coffee today, a real treat for both of them, when Potter asked to hear the latest on the college-professor-polygamy-scandal. 

“What’s that, Potter? You wanted to hear what’s new in stocks and bonds?”

“Come on, Malfoy. Don’t be coy with me. I know you have the gossip pages hidden beyond that finance rag.”

“You'll be glad to know, Potter, that Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes is up three points from yesterday—”

“Malfoy.”

“Alright, alright. She sent out an open letter to the campus community and notified the University President herself of her two husbands before accepting the tenure track job, and has yet to receive any major backlash. I can’t decide if she’s a dumb bint for making a big deal out of the situation or a genius for owning up to her preferences.”

“Marry me.”

Where the fuck did that come from? Potter was sitting across from him with a sappy-arse grin on his face, looking like Draco was the greatest thing since sliced bread. What was he on, anyway? They might be acting like a married couple (sans sex, of course) but that didn’t give him the right to utterly _tease_ Draco like this and make him wish for things that could never actualize.

There was only one way to react to this situation. 

“You’ve right lost your mind this time, Potter,” Draco sneered, chucking his paper into the bin and fleeing the room like the coward he was. Seconds later, he was dressed and ready for work. Potter’s apologetic face hinted at a forthcoming apology, but that would have only hurt more, so Draco held up his hand for silence and disappeared into Potter’s filthy Floo.

He didn’t see Potter for a couple days, and was starting to worry that he’d fucked up the best friendship of his entire life when all of a sudden Potter was knocking at his door dressed in the jumper Draco had bought for him, sporting the soft black leather boots Draco always complimented him on in the past.

“Er - want to get some dinner?” Potter asked, nervousness evident in his language and posture. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Draco snapped, far before his rational mind could step in and calm him down. 

“I thought I was asking you out on a date.” Potter didn’t miss a beat, and Draco’s heart leapt at the off-chance he was serious. 

“Alright,” Draco finally conceded. “But don’t fuck it up.” He offered no further explanation, and Potter didn’t ask for one. 

The date started off rockier than Draco would have liked considering how long they’d been friends. But eventually Potter started to relax, which allowed him to relax, and suddenly they were back to being Potter and Malfoy—pals who could take the mickey out of anyone in their immediate vicinity with good-natured smiles hiding their mischievous grins. Only this time, in-between all the shit-talking, they exchanged warm glances and affectionate touches. Potter seemed to have enjoyed himself as much as Draco had, so when Potter went to give him a chaste kiss goodnight, Draco let him. The sheer elation of feeling Potter’s lips against his own caused him to let something slip about a _next time_ , and when Potter’s eyes lit up in response, Draco couldn’t even regret the moment of vulnerability.

From that point on, Draco and Potter were nearly inseparable. Innocent still, in terms of consummation, but inseparable. Gold galleons were grudgingly exchanged between their friends when they turned up together to pub night a week later, hand in hand, but Draco couldn’t even muster up a twinge of annoyance when he realized the bet wasn’t on _if_ they would get together, but _when_.

***

The second time Potter (unsuccessfully) asked Draco to marry him, they'd been together for just over a year. Potter wanted to go flat-hunting, since they spent so much time over at each other’s places anyway, so Draco humored him by arguing passionately for a charming townhouse in Chelsea over Potter’s idea of getting a large flat in Islington. Even after spending so long as Potter's _boyfriend_ , Draco still couldn't let himself get attached. It was still only a year; less than a negligible part of their overall lives. He’d seen relationships that had lasted much longer end over much less.

Fortunately for Draco, Potter was responsible for a difficult case at work—one involving an illegal potions smuggling ring. He liked taking care of Potter when he was stressed from working so hard (something Draco hadn’t actually believed Potter could do, until he’d seen it with his very own eyes). This took several forms. Sometimes Draco would simply bring Potter coffee brewed just the way he liked it; other times he would give him sensual back massages, working out all the tight muscles Potter managed to tie into knots while scrunched up over his work. Still other times, Draco would slip between Potter’s legs and taste his delicious cock, teasing Potter relentlessly by licking up and down his shaft before swallowing the entire thing and letting Potter fuck his face with abandon. He’d never had to tell Potter that he’d been a virgin when they were together for the first time some months ago because, as with everything, Draco was a quick study. Potter (and Draco too, for that matter) usually preferred to have loving, passionate sex, but sometimes, when Potter was wound up this tightly, Draco was more than willing to take it rough and wildly.

Of course, trust Harry Potter to go and get himself into more trouble than was warranted. Draco was initially pissed when they were both kidnapped, but he couldn't really feel anything but drowsy after the drug they'd used started to take effect.

“Potter, I swear to God you better get the both of us out of here alive,” Draco remembered mumbling. 

Potter’s eyes had softened at the sight of him, even though he made a snarky comment about how did Draco like it now that he was caught up in one of the crazy schemes he’d always been so madly jealous of back in school?

“Not so fun, is it, Draco?”

“Shove your sarcasm up your arse and work your half-baked Potter magic,” Draco had growled, blinking wearily to try and clear double-Potters from his vision. “If we die from this, I’ll have no problem killing you again in our afterlife.”

Potter gently closed Draco’s eyes, sensing his struggle to remain conscious. “Dead or not, I still have every intention of marrying you after this is over.”

Was he hearing what he thought he was hearing? Draco couldn’t be sure. At any rate, it was a poor time and place for a marriage proposal. He pretended to fall out of time and space, and, in the next few minutes as he and Potter were attacked by the smugglers, he really did lose consciousness. 

Potter thought Draco had forgotten the whole thing after all was said and done, and Draco didn’t bother setting him straight. 

***

The next time it happened, it was a highly charged emotional affair. Six months after the kidnapping incident and a year and a half after getting together, Draco and Potter were comfortably living together in a flat they’d both compromised on for the other’s sake and slowly grew to love over time. It was their home. Draco experimented with cooking and baking, refining his culinary skills, while Potter came and helped him—surprisingly enough, the Saviour had hidden talents in the kitchen that had never quite come to fruition in Potions class. 

Their morning routine hadn’t changed at all. Draco would still crack witticisms about the events in the gossip pages, some invited, some not, while shielding the section in front of the finance pages. Potter would drink his coffee and give Draco a blow-by-blow of all the Quidditch matches they’d had to miss because of work, taking special pleasure in describing the entirety of a game only to later reveal that he’d been rehashing a Cannons match. Somehow, Draco put up with his dumb arse.

The one thing that had changed was how Potter would wake him up in the morning; slowly and full of loving kisses, draping them all over Draco’s neck, torso, and thighs. Draco had been surprised with how open-minded Potter was about sex. He’d expected to always occupy the bottom position, no questions asked, so it came as a big surprised to him when, during their first time, Potter told him that he wanted to be taken by Draco. It still was a surprise when, every other morning, Potter teased a sleeping Draco to full hardness before lowering himself down on Draco’s cock, and rode him until Draco was fully awake and could turn them over to get more leverage. He never grew tired of watching Potter’s face fill with ecstasy, and then love once Draco had fully taken him apart. The rest of the time, Draco eagerly embraced Potter's cock—somehow, being on the bottom with Potter filling him, loving him, could make him come undone more quickly and thoroughly than anything else. 

Granger and the Weasel finally got engaged, which wasn’t a surprise to anyone who knew them. Honestly, it was about damn time already. Of course, this brought new challenges to their relationship. Molly Weasley had an engagement party for the happy couple and insisted that Harry bring Draco along, shrilly claiming that, “You’ve been together for far too long, and almost no-one in the family’s had a proper chance to meet your young man, Harry!” That was a bit rich, since the Weasleys knew exactly who he was, or, rather, who he _had_ been, and not to mention that the past year and a half seemed like _forever_ and yet he was only receiving this invitation _now_. Maybe there was some hurt covering up his anger. If so, Draco would never admit it.

Potter hadn’t bought his several excuses for needing to stay home, so Draco found himself tagging along to the Weasleys’ get-together. And yes, he said tagging along, because that’s exactly how he felt. Especially when he received a cool welcome from everyone except Ron, who'd long since gotten used to him after months and months of pub nights. The worst part was when Potter decided to go and get chummy with the Weaslette, who looked like a ripped top-model after training and playing with the Harpies all season. Draco knew Potter swung both ways; he wasn’t naive. It only made things worse when Molly Weasley got herself half-wasted and started waxing poetics about how nice it would have been if Harry and Ginny had gotten married straightaway out of Hogwarts. If Potter hadn't been able to read the jealousy, hurt, and anger on Draco’s face after eighteen months together, well then maybe they shouldn’t be together.

He forced himself to politely excuse himself from the gathering the way his mother had taught him and Apparated home, an agitated Harry in tow. Immediately locking himself in the bedroom, Draco sank down against the closed door and let the tears come to to his eyes. He didn’t often indulge in crying, but it was happening more and more frequently, especially where Potter was concerned. At this rate, he’d need to buy a box of tissues for every room in the flat. 

“Draco, please open the door,” Potter pleaded. “Everything seemed fine tonight, didn’t it?”

Wrenching open the door, Draco fixed Potter with a murderous glare. “Is that what you think, Potter? Oh really? Did you make that classification after everyone ignored me all night, or before Molly Weasley started passively aggressively hinting at how she wanted you and the Weaslette to get back together?”

“Don’t talk about her like that,” Potter said automatically. 

“I’m sorry if the nickname hurts _Ginny's_ delicate sensibilities, Potter!”

“I meant Mrs. Weasley.” There was a slight bite to Potter’s voice this time, and Draco could feel the betrayal seep down to his very core.

He made to slam the door again, but Potter was too quick for him, blocking the jam with his foot and then his body even as Draco tried to crush him with the door. Recognizing that he wasn't going to win, Draco stormed back into the shadows of their bedroom and started taking off his dress robes, attire that had been utterly wasted on a bunch of jean-clad Weasleys. When Draco felt Potter’s hands caress his shoulders, he didn’t immediately shake him off, but the urge remained all the same.

“It’ll get better, Draco, I promise,” Potter said lightly, using the tone Draco always attributed with _Draco, please let it go_. There was affection behind the words, but the sentiment was crystal clear. 

“ _Sure_ it will,” Draco cried, turning to look Potter in the eye. “Because all the Weasleys are just going to _magically_ accept that we’re together now and are going to accept me as your partner, especially after my past! No, Potter,” he said angrily, wrenching himself away from Potter’s hands, “I’m going to cause a rift between you and your family. And it’s not like I can ever give you children of your own.”

“Draco — what — what are you saying?” The look on Potter’s face would have broken his heart, had it been whole to begin with. 

“We need to get our heads out of our arses and stop playing house,” Draco said savagely. Without a conscious thought in his mind he tugged his old Hogwarts trunk out from under their bed before walking to their shared wardrobe and pulling out an armful of his clothes. When he turned around to dump them on the better, he got a glimpse of Potter’s face, and oh, boy, Draco hadn’t seen Potter that angry since their Hogwarts days. 

“What the absolute _fuck_ do you think you’re doing?! Potter shouted, fixing Draco in place with his glare. Behind the facade of anger, Draco could see the fear and panic visible in Potter's eyes. He ignored it.

“I’m saving us both from the heartbreak that’s surely going to occur once you realize you should listen to _mommy dearest_ and marry that stupid Weaslette!”

“Why would you even think —” A vein on Potter’s forehead looked like it was about to pop. He really needed to get his temper under control. “Draco.” Draco ignored him. “Draco, for God’s sake, listen to me!” He didn’t know why he looked up again, but Potter’s eyes were red now, and he seemed to have slightly calmed down. “Draco, I don’t _want_ to be with Ginny.”

“Why not?” Draco whispered brokenly, his own anger evaporating; conscious now of the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes. 

Potter stepped closer and gently caressed Draco’s cheek. “Because I want _you_ , you bloody moron.”

The cognitive dissonance was too great; Draco couldn’t rationalize what Potter was saying. Hell, he couldn’t even _conceptualize_ it.“Why?” he had to know.

“Because I love you, Malfoy, and for some odd reason, I want to spend the rest of my life with you!”

Draco was shocked into silence. He stood there, quivering, under Potter’s touch, until Potter sighed and pulled Draco into his arms. With one of Potter’s warm hands clutching his back and the other threading through his hair, Draco finally felt the entirety of that love for the first time, especially when Potter nuzzled his face into the back of Draco’s neck. Potter’s back was warm beneath his own hands, and Potter let out a relieved breath as Draco clutched him tightly.

“I love you too,” he whispered into Potter’s ear. Potter gave him a little squeeze to show that he’d heard.

They stayed that way for some time, reveling in the feeling of one another, until Draco leaned back just the slightest bit so that he could kiss Potter, who responded passionately. Their kiss was wet and Potter’s lips had never felt softer, or maybe Draco had never fully let himself enjoy their intimacy because he always thought it would be ripped from him in an instant. They mutually wound up on the bed, and Potter only broke the kiss long enough to ask Draco what he wanted. His only response was, “You.” Potter smiled, reflecting the love Draco now _knew_ for certain that he felt. Their love-making had always been meaningful before, but this time it was intimate and loving in a way Draco hadn’t known it could be. He found that holes he didn’t even realize were there were healed by Potter’s words and touch. After that night, Draco finally began to think of Potter as _Harry_.

***

The fourth failed proposal was apparently supposed to be a surprise. Draco had been telling Harry all about his childhood pet kneazle, Sophia, and had hinted at how nice it would be for them to welcome a pet into their home. He’d been even more obvious about it than usual, telling Harry all his favorite breeds and temperaments. 

Imagine his surprise, then, when Harry came home from work on their two-year anniversary, shoved him down on the couch, and then plunked a little ball of fur down into his arms. 

“What’s this?” Draco asked, eyes widening in shock at the clumsy little kitty clambering all over his lap. “A kitten, Harry?” He smiled in spite of himself. “It’s no kneazle, but it sure is _cute_.”

A quick glimpse at the kitty’s collar—which read _Marry Me?_ —had Draco rolling his eyes in exasperations. Harry was going to have to try harder than that.

“I can’t marry this cute little kitty,” he cooed, tickling the cat under her tiny chin. “Now can I, Harry?” It was hard to switch off his cutesy-voice, but he managed. 

Harry looked like he was about to say something (to try and rescue his failed proposal, Draco supposed) when the kitty shot out of his lap and raced pell-mell across the living room, smashing the vase they’d received as a gift from Draco’s mother before furiously clawing its way up Draco’s expensive drapes. Truth be told, he couldn’t care less about either (the vase was ugly and ruined the aesthetic of Draco’s meticulously decorated living room) and he’d actually been meaning to talk Harry into repainting the room and buying new, matching drapes. Now he had the perfect excuse.

“Naughty kitty!” cried Draco, leaping to his feet and feigning anger when secretly he was absolutely amused by the kitten’s antics. 

Harry Summoned the kitten, who sank its claws into the fabric and _riiiiiiipped_ the fabric as it came careening across the room. Draco burst out laughing and sank back onto the couch, clutching his stomach.

“You’re not mad?” Harry asked, bewildered, holding the bad kitty arms length away.

“How could I be mad?” Draco asked, sure that a sickeningly loving smile had spread its way across his face. The cutesy-voice came back out as he exclaimed, “You brought me a widdle-kitty!” 

Harry almost dropped said _widdle-kitty_. “ _Please_ don’t ever say that again, Draco! Ugh, maybe I would have reconsidered if I’d have known you’d be like _this_.”

The kitten squirmed in Harry’s arms, so he deposited it back in Draco’s lap. “You’re going to be a good little kitty, aren’t you?” Draco cooed. He cuddled it tightly in his arms, curling up on the couch for a nap. 

Despite himself, Harry couldn't stop his eyes from softening. “Come lay with us, Harry,” Draco said, already feeling the first wave of sleepiness hit. “And I won’t do it again.”

He was sure Harry wouldn’t refuse an offer like that, especially when he was tired from work. Just as he expected, Harry scooted behind him on the couch, snuggling up against Draco before reaching his hand underneath Draco’s arm and entwining their hands together on top of the soft kitty.

***

The fifth time, Draco decided to take matters into his own hands. He went out and bought a classic gold ring, one that wouldn’t get in Harry’s way at work. His lover’s style preferences had always been simple, down to earth, and comfortable, so Draco knew that Harry would love this ring. He loved it too; how couldn’t he, when it was to be the ring Harry wore to show his love for Draco? 

Harry was acting suspicious. Draco didn’t want to read too much into the situation, but, then again, he _thought_ he might have a pretty good reason why Harry was acting like an overeager lunatic. Eventually, he calmed down, but Draco couldn’t guess the reason: there hadn’t been an achingly romantic proposal that swept Draco off of his feet, after all. 

Draco didn’t fuss over when or where he’d ask Harry for his hand. Honestly, he wanted to do it at the same time Harry asked him, so the ball was never in his court to begin with. He kept it on a chain around his neck, tucked away during the day and slipped into a ball of socks at night so that Harry wouldn’t get suspicious. 

Mr. Sulley’s case was driving Draco up a wall. He never should have gone into law, not if it gave him this much hassle, but there wasn’t much to be done about it now. Especially since he liked the paychecks that came along with being a junior partner at the barrister’s office. His only consolation was that, while he was wasting time on work an intern could be doing, Harry was away on official Auror business being equally taxed on the continent.  Bête , at least, made good company while Harry was gone, her soft fur tickling Draco’s arms as she squirmed in-between him and his work in an attempt to get Draco to pet her. 

When Harry got back, he insisted on taking a Portkey and doing a day vacation on an island south of France. It was just as romantic as Draco could have hoped, and though he brought his ring along, Harry made no motion to propose. The sex they had right there on the open beach was good though, as was their picnic lunch they refueled with after, and Draco couldn’t have been happier with how the afternoon had turned out. 

Back at home, when Harry asked him to sit on the couch, Draco knew the moment had arrived. The scotch Harry brought him burned his throat, but it was the good kind of burn. The one that came before something momentous. 

As Harry knelt down, Draco thought he knew what was coming next. Even though there was no ring box in sight, he slid down to the floor, matching Harry’s bent posture. 

“Draco?” he laughed. “What are you doing?”

“Exactly what you’re doing,” Draco said firmly. “God, I’ve been waiting forever to do this; what took you so long?”

Harry opened his mouth to explain, but what ended up coming out was, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Draco said, and he was about to say more, but suddenly there were the simultaneous sounds of the Floo chiming and an owl flying into a window. He looked at Harry, and they both shared an exasperated sigh.

“Draco!” a shrill voice called.

“Guess I have window, you have Floo,” Harry murmured, standing up to let in the owl. 

Draco stomped over to the Floo, only to see his former best friend’s face in the flames. “Pansy, you bint, what the fuck are you doing?” he hissed. “You've only just all but ruined the best moment of my life!”

“Can I come through? There's an utter _crisis_ happening, Draco, and I need you _immediately_.”

“Might as well let her,” Harry said, putting a sympathetic hand on Draco’s shoulder. “Urgent Ministry business. I’ve been called back to the continent, but this time, I have to go in undercover.”

“Be safe,” Draco said, leaning in to kiss Harry goodbye. Their lips met for just a brief second before Harry was snatching up his travel bag and whisking his way out the door.

“Well, come on already, I haven’t got all day, you know!”

***

When they finally got it right, it was on a regular day, at a regular time. Harry spent two and a half months after their spontaneous trip to France on the undercover mission, leaving Draco with a lot of time to think about what he really wanted out of life. He looked down at  Bête and silently wondered if he would have changed anything about their life. It didn’t take him long to come to the conclusion that the answer was no, he wouldn’t change an absolute thing.

Harry wrote letters while he was away, letters containing more romantic sentiments than Draco ever dreamed Harry was capable of having. It warmed his stomach to know that he meant every last word written on the page. His writing was less sentimental, but Draco tried to convey the depth of his love all the same. 

After Harry got back, two days before their three-year anniversary, he came to help Draco in the kitchen with a new stew recipe. He’d just finished tossing in freshly-chopped carrots, and turned back around to snatch the potato cubes, but Harry took Draco’s hands and stopped him short. 

“Draco,” he said earnestly. “I’ve spent the last three years trying to come up with the perfect way to propose to you, and I think that the more I try the worse my attempts are going to get.” Draco had to smile at this. “But if you’ll have me, I’d like to marry you. I love you more than anything and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” Harry held up a simple platinum band, which Draco loved immediately. 

“On one condition,” Draco said, beaming at Harry. He reached beneath his shirt and ripped off the chain, sliding the gold ring off and into his hand. “I’ve loved you for years, Harry, and have been waiting to ask if you’ll have me as well.”

“Of course, you great git,” Harry grinned, leaning in to kiss Draco. After, Harry slowly slid his ring onto Draco’s finger, and then Draco did the same for Harry.

Draco noticed Harry looking at the gold ring, and asked, “Do you like it?” 

“I do,” Harry answered, kissing Draco again. “I was just thinking about how well you must know me, to be able to pick out something I like so much.”

“I was just thinking the same thing,” Draco admitted, admiring his own platinum ring. 

Despite the temptation to host a big, extravagant wedding with all the bells and whistles like the ones commonly featured in the society pages, Harry and Draco settled for a simple ceremony after signing their marriage certificate at the Ministry Courtroom for Marriages, Bonds, and Unity Ceremonies. They hadn’t told anyone about their plans, but they'd were congratulated by friends and family just the same. Molly Weasley even insisted on throwing a reception in the field beyond the Burrow, going well out of her way to make up for Draco’s less-than-warm welcome to the family a number of years ago. This time, he could honestly say he fully enjoyed the occasion.

Life really hadn’t changed much for Draco after he and Harry were finally married. They still worked too much and played too little, and now everyone was trying to pressure them into having kids. But Draco liked the way things were. He liked waking up to morning sex, fixing Harry coffee and reading the newspaper together, snuggling together with Bête at their side, and trying out new recipes every other weekend. He liked the spontaneous vacations, their cheesy declarations of love for one another, and the way Harry’s face would light up every time he walked into the room. 

“Hey, Potter,” Draco shouted, as they flew around the Manor grounds after having a couple of tea with Narcissa, “I'm going to knock you off of that broom!”

Harry mock-glared at him. “I’d like to see you try, Malfoy!”

“Scared?”

“You wish.”

He didn’t need more invitation to fly straight into Harry, knocking them both out the air and onto the dewy grass. As they rolled around on the wet ground, trying to wrestle the advantage out from one another, Draco thought of how lucky he was to be able to share his life with the only man he’d ever truly loved. 

**Author's Note:**

> [Fic headers](http://hd-remix.tumblr.com/post/160340320519/remix-for-carpemermaid-5-times-harry-tried-to) and a [pull quote](http://hd-remix.tumblr.com/post/160516112963/when-their-tasks-were-done-and-they-left-hogwarts) have been cross-posted to tumblr. Help us promote the fest by liking and reblogging!


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